Foraging for Connection
There was always another plant to look for, another mushroom species to find, and the possibilities of foraging were endless.
There was always another plant to look for, another mushroom species to find, and the possibilities of foraging were endless.
I smell the sweet river dew and hear the rush of water over rock, and I’m launched back in time to my hunter-gatherer roots.
At least I now know not to compost in the shade.
Through all the changes of my childhood, I always knew that my grandmother’s home would be the same.
The bear ascended a steep rhododendron-covered slope which cut the distance between us and him in half.
No one tells you that the challenge of finding friends and creating community extends beyond just high school, beyond just university.
Maybe restoration doesn’t have to be all or nothing, maybe it doesn’t have to be so black-and-white.
D.A.R.E. to explore the unexplored. Here be monsters and suddenly we’re the first ones, wading through myth and legend and finding freedom, happiness, and warmth. We don’t see dragons or lose our grades. We don’t get pregnant. We aren’t shoving suppositories up our asses à la Trainspotting or whoring à la Requiem for a Dream. It’s just nice. Warm and cozy and soft. One of us uses the word “underwhelming.”
On our wedding night, Clarissa and I got a call from our roommates in North Carolina saying that our house had been robbed. Someone had thrown a brick through the kitchen window.
Friends who I can count on to read my work and respond sincerely to it. Friends for drinking coffee, for studying, for drinking a glass of wine while playing board games.